Grah & Saz in Sarajevo

High up in the hills above Sarajevo, my friend and driver Adnan was taking the curves of the winding roads as if we were in a Jason Bourne or James Bond film. Driving right on the edge of extreme danger seems to be a national sport in Bosnia & Herzegovina, cars narrowly escaping collision on the two lanes national highways that twist their ways through the mountainous landscape of the country. Never pausing for a breath, Adnan was excitedly recounting the last time he'd been up here and eaten the best grah, bean soup ever - even better than his grandmother's, which of course is borderline impossible. We can to a screeching halt in the graveled parking area outside a wooden lodge, a sign outside indicating it was some kind of "Hiking Klub". Hit by the clear mountain air as we got out of his car, the temperature felt as if it had dropped several degrees from Sarajevo itself, a muggy city in the bottom of the great valley that surrounds it.
As we walked on the lodge balcony toward the entrance, the smell of grah was indeed overwhelming and growing stronger by the step. As Adnan opened the door and we walked in, all twenty or so heads turned to stare at us in silence. "I forgot to mention it's a members only place", he laughed, "They probably have't seen a foreigner here since the war." As I politely smiled as we found a spare table. After the waiter served us Coca-Cola (no order necessary, this is obviously what foreigners drink), an unfamiliar sound started coming from the kitchen. A man with an accordion on his front back his way into the room seemingly from nowhere, loudly singing in Bosnian. From under another table came a sez, a stringed traditional instrument and another man on the table next to us brought us a small drum to complete the trio. Adnan raised his eyebrows and indicated to the waiter to come over. "We just came here from grah?" he asked him in Bosnian. The waiter laughed and said in perfect English to me, "They don't get many new audiences up here." The accordion player made his way to join us and sing with the volume necessary to fill a concert hall, with the added bonus of strong rakije (brandy) breath. A few minutes later two bowls of grah came out for us, indeed the best grah I'd ever eaten, with undoubtedly the best musical accompainment.